


take you apart

by godframes (lategenocide)



Series: different hearts. [1]
Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Cuddling, Human!Wooyoung, Kissing, M/M, Semi-Beta'd, Unrequited Love, explicit torture at the end, faerie!san, fluff for like a little less than half the fic, incoherent mess, mingi talks about hwangwoong briefly, san collects books, san nerd, there is a cat faerie, this was self-indulgent, very dangerous unrequited love, wooyoung and san have a cute dynamic for like two minutes, wooyoung gets kidnapped, wooyoung has a crush on him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:40:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26228833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lategenocide/pseuds/godframes
Summary: To Woyoung’s constant surprise, San was gentle. That is to say, all of the San that Wooyoung knew was not what he had been reading in the extensive collection of books that San just had lying around. Wooyung had recorded and shelved all the books in order, save for the books in languages he didn’t know. For those, he forced San to translate.
Relationships: Choi San/Jung Wooyoung
Series: different hearts. [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1938142
Comments: 11
Kudos: 71





	take you apart

**Author's Note:**

> i would like to thank mayo for beta-ing the first 14 pages of this and twitter for allowing me to scream about this  
> also [hunter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/temporarytouch) for telling me i should do this thanks my guy
> 
> also also! hELLO first ateez fic hi new fandom

Wooyoung didn’t mean to find a fairy ring, or get roped up with the unfairly attractive “Unbeing” that was Choi San, as he- they? Some fae seemed not to have a defined gender- decided that Wooyoung would be more useful as a plaything than a source of food. It was not precisely in that order. Then again, he didn’t mean to get laid off from his tedious 9-5 office job a week before he decided to have a one-man pity party in the wilderness of Korea, but here we were. 

It started as a typical day after the depression of getting laid off. Wooyoung was in a daze, too stressed out about the horrendously expensive city rent to realize that what he had initially intended to be a two-hour hike that would supposedly end at around one pm, had already dragged into a six-hour one.

He didn’t know where he was, much less the direction he should have been heading to get home, to his dingy apartment with its monthly rent that would have him bankrupt by next month, tops. Maybe he would just become a hermit, living under bridges.

He glanced around the forestry, the setting sun illuminating the foliage, Wooyoung found himself thinking it wasn’t so bad if he died here. At least it was pretty. 

Empty comfort, and he knew it. Wooyoung stumbled a few steps forward, landing just outside the smallest forest clearing he would ever imagine from his many childhood years of listening to magically fairytales of cute magically little beings with wings and pixie dust. In hindsight, it was such an ironic thought- the fae, faerie, spirits, demon, whatever one wanted to call them- they were not pleasant ones with glossy wings and sweet, yet mischievous temperaments. Maybe the Wooyoung of the future was just too brainwashed, but he felt the original version made more sense. What, or who, in their right mind, would like to inhabit and assist humans? Not him.

In the middle of the pitiful clearing, there sat a circle of mushrooms, each one livid and red, glimmering. Entranced, Wooyoung stepped inside the clearing, now a foot or so away. Some ancient instinct called him to step inside, promising, somewhat irrationally, freedom from his everyday stresses.

That was before _that_ The Unbeing materialized in front of his eyes. 

He- it- whatever- was a writhing mass of dark ink. It wasn’t even black, it felt like something endless, a black hole for the earth he stood on, feeding on the energy around it. Wooyoung collapsed onto the floor of the meadow, knees weak and his face paling. 

The mass of endlessness condensed quickly, changing slowly into a man- a pair of sharp eyes, with this sense of laziness and bottomless cruelty. His eyes were golden, not piercing in color, but a dull golden yellow, alert and dangerous. It stood against his dark hair and light caramel skin. But those pupils were empty- despite it, Wooyoung could see the horrendous things they’d done. The black hair, streaked with blonde, was swept away from his face. With the sleeves of his fitted tuxedo shirt and casual jean jacket pushed up to his elbows, he looked stupidly attractive, like some model walking off the runway. He didn’t fit- wasn’t supposed to fit into this natural setting, for all of him screamed _evil_ , but he did, somehow, even as the grass below his feet withered.

The now personified mass of an earthly black hole glanced down at him. He seemed to consider Wooyoung’s existence for a bit- Wooyoung himself knew he was probably pitiful too look at, slightly shivering and oddly pale skin to add to that suggestion. He then crouched down to Wooyoung’s level, an empty smile painted across his lips.

In all honesty, Wooyoung might have been just a little awestruck by his looks alone, but that didn’t last long, for his head was jerked back by his hair. 

“What is a human doing so close to the Other World?” It was less of a question than a thought. His voice was smooth, just a tint on the lower side in pitch- irrelevant, because he continued. “I warned The Department they were not to disturb this spot. It seems they have a death wish, allowing a human to stumble upon here.”

Wooyoung shifted his gaze away from the person, but he was sure all of his confusion was on display for this nameless man to evaluate. Other World? The Department? Death wish? The last time Wooyoung checked, he was perfectly good at Korean, but he failed to comprehend this combination of words. He couldn’t decide if it was the underlying fear, or he was just that stupid. 

A soft sigh, not the sort that suggested absentminded daydreams, rather, its condensing cousin, “I will deal with their incompetence at a later time. You, on the other hand,” the man paused, narrowing his eyes. “You are no good to my lords as food, but a loose end, nonetheless.”

Without meaning for it to come out, Wooyoung blurted out, “That’s great, I appreciate the sentiment that my jobless ass at least has something going for me. I’ll take not being worthy to be served as food as a compliment.”

The man, weird black but make it look like a person, whatever they were, quirked up their brows. It was unnerving, still second before they snorted. To Wooyoung’s relief, it sounded like laughter. Maybe, just maybe, he can get out of here and do some job searching, look for a job that would make sure he didn’t end up here again.

“Perhaps you have a use after all,” nevermind, he was going to die. “In all these millennials, I haven’t yet had a plaything.” _nevermind_ , he was going to live. Maybe.

“You’re old,” Wooyoung observed. While he admittedly quite liked older guys, he was also not that into super old guys. Especially the ones that talked of things he didn’t understand or know. Although, if one considered the magnitude of San’s life, his age was nothing- he wasn’t defined by age and time as humans, limited not by such but only by the bounds of the universe, where there was one, anyway.

The man smiled, “I would assume us The Unbeings would be much older to serve our lords well.”

“Uh,” Wooyoung’s first thought was that this man wasn’t very unbeing, whatever that meant. He certainly seemed to be a being, of some sort. He was a tad taller than he was, rather strong, by his guess. It was in the visible veins on his hands and the slight bulge of his biceps through his clothing. However, he didn’t get to ask what he wanted to ask, for several men, in clothes that somehow looked very agent-like yet breathable, barged into the small clearing.

They didn’t have guns, just very odd equipment strapped to their bodies and protective gear. They looked at Wooyoung, then at the man. One of them said into a walkie talkie: “Choi San has returned to our side from the Other World.” 

Wooyoung looked at the man- supposed a “Choi San.” 

“Your human supervision is awful,” San said rather apathetically. “How did you allow a human to enter these forest depths?”

One of the men’s faces tightened, “That was our mistake. By all accounts, he shouldn’t have found a trail to this place. Allow us to take him back.” San’s face seemed to convey that “he shouldn’t have” wasn’t the right answer. Wooyoung himself couldn’t even remember how he got here, let alone which trail took him here. 

San ignored him, diverting his attention towards Wooyoung, “Name?” he asked. “You know mine, human.”

“Huh? Oh, it’s Jung Wooyoung,” Wooyung replied, mildly flabbergasted, just as that same agent said, “Don’t!” 

Wooyoung glanced at the men; all of them looked at him with a sort of pity and disbelief. Now he was _bewildered_. He didn’t even know what was going on. 

“You can’t just give an Unbeing your name,” the agent said, with a despairing tone of voice. “Your name gives a faerie power over you.”

A faerie? Wooyung looked at San again, who crouched there, in front of him, still and calm. There was a slightly mischievous, mostly victorious smile on his face like he’d won something. He didn’t look like a faerie from a children’s book, but Wooyoung didn’t even believe in the existence of them. According to those books, he should have wings, maybe sparkly pixie dust and a flower crown. San had none of those things.

“The Unbeing?” he asked, without thinking. He had seen, or rather, felt San’s extreme ability to harm, and he almost shrank back after his question.

San didn’t look surprised, only amused, which was good for him, “It’s a mistranslation. The humans have lost the original word and the true translation, which made the name stick. You will learn more as we go.” Not surprising to Wooyoung.

“You can’t take him,” the agent spoke again. With those words, the temperature dropped several degrees. In his thin sports jacket, Wooyung could feel the chill. It didn’t seem like he just imagined things, his breath came out as a small puff of frost, something that reminded him of Christmas. It wasn’t winter yet; it was the end of August- in no way should he be cold the way he would be if he went out in a short sleeve and sports jacket in the winter. 

San, coldly, repeated, “I can’t take him? I thought we had established you’re not to assume you are allowed to order me around. Your neglect brought the human here. I will do as I please.” he picked Wooyoung up effortlessly by the waist- with one arm, no less. Then, he was tossed like a ragged sack over San’s shoulder before the man stepped into that ring of mushrooms Wooyung had been enchanted by earlier. 

“What-” he began to ask, but San put a finger to his lips. If this man could pick him up easily, then he could probably crush his skull into dust, so Wooyoung shut his mouth. He had some respectable instincts. He glanced at the men standing there, wriggled in a useless attempt to fight and pleaded silently with his expressions for them to help him, somehow. 

One of the agents mouthed “good luck” at him as Wooyoung felt something else tugging him in, and he was pulled, rather painfully, into another world. His last look at them was their faces, all worried and regretful. Someone waved goodbye.

All in all, none of them seemed very caught up in the fact that Wooyoung had been tossed over a supposed “The Unbeing’s” shoulder to be carried off to who knew where. Wooyoung was pretty sure this could count as a kidnapping. He hadn’t consented to be San’s “plaything,” as he had put it.

That made him nervous- Wooyung’s heart rate sped up, terrified to stay still. Thoughts raced through his head, trying to piece together the jargon that he couldn’t understand. Nothing made any logical sense. Nothing was right or had some reason for it. He kept pushing, but it kept falling apart.

And then they stepped into another world. Or rather, San did. He was just hitching a ride on his shoulder.

  
  


At first, he hadn’t noticed it was another world- it looked pretty similar to his world, but he realized the difference quickly. In addition to the fact this was no longer a clearing, this forestry felt sinister, somehow. There were no bird calls, only odd faintly screeching sounds he couldn’t place. San set him down on the forest floor, which let him step closer to San, seeing as he was the only figure in this suddenly strange world he felt even a bit familiar with. Nervousness crawled up his throat- San had no body temperature, but he wasn’t cold. Wooyoung managed to take comfort in his presence, and also that arm around his shoulders. He had questions, so many questions, but this was just enough to shut him up- for a bit, not long.

“Is this the Other World?” he asked, just above a whisper. 

“This is the Other World, yes. It is where most of my kind reside,” San replied. “Hush, little one. I’ll answer your questions later.”

“Okay,” Wooyoung replied quickly. His face flushed with the way he said “little one”- Wooyoung couldn’t decide if it had some sort of affection or it was a sort of degradation tactic. In any case, he shut his mouth for the rest of the next two hours.

At least, he thought it was two hours. Time felt different, somehow. It wasn’t in the way time felt slow- it indeed seemed to be that time worked differently somehow, on a schedule that wasn’t human. He wasn’t sure what he had gotten himself into, but all he knew was that all of the fairy movies he’d ever watched were probably fake. That was sort of sad.

Eventually, they arrived at the residence that San lived in. It was a simple place if you count a three-story home carved into the face of a cliff simple. Wooyoung stared up at it with a sense of awe as he followed San in. It made the perfect distraction from the bizarreness of the past three hours.

“You can ask your questions now, little one,” San said, leading them up a flight of stairs. “However, ground rules: you are not to leave this place without my permission. You can explore and do as you wish, provided that you follow my orders. Do we understand, little one?” they reached the top of the stairs. All of that sounded odd and suspicious, but his whole day had been unusual and irregular, so he couldn’t say this was the strangest thing that had happened today. He made it sound like he was a captive, which Wooyoung wouldn’t consider it as wrong.

“Yes,” Wooyoung squeaked under San’s piercing gaze. He then followed it up with, “What are you?”

“I’m an Unbeing, as the humans like to call us,” San replied. “In a broader term, I am one of the fae. A fairy, a demon, a spirit- essentially those are all the same.”

“You’re a fairy?” San didn’t open his mouth to reply. It wasn’t a question anyway- Wooyoung stood there as his view on more supernatural things began to shatter. “W-what do you do? Do you have ’powers’?”

“Yes, and no,” San answered, “My physiology is different from yours, so my body works differently. What you consider power is a common birthright for me.”

And the questions went on- Wooyoung had more questions than he knew what to do with, starting with mostly this new world he had just been exposed to and San- he had a plethora of questions about his kind, half of them were related to his childhood memories of the popular culture that contained mentions of faeries. It didn’t seem like San was impatient, he answered all the questions with what he could, but most of it was cryptic, still confusing. 

In the end, he learned that the Other World was the fairy world, the Unseelie and Seelie Court was accurate, The Unbeings ( which to say, San ) were lieutenants to The Torn Ones- “old, ancient gods” as San had described- doing the dirty work for them since the gods were mostly asleep. Oh, and he could discard most of the impression of faeries the media had fed him. Wooyung was about to have his world views destroyed anyway, seeing as San stood right there in front of him. 

“What do you mean by plaything?” the words were out of his mouth the moment he thought of them. Wooyoung flushes, down to his neck. Honestly, he had the vaguest idea; he wasn’t familiar with San- he just assumed it might be something like those web stories a few of his female friends had, once upon a time, screamed about to him ( why to him, of all people? It was odd ) over the phone when they were younger. Handsome, dashing ( but very creepy, might Wooyoung add ) men who captured hearts. 

San laughed, stepping closer to Wooyoung, invading his personal space ( did the fae have the concept of personal space? ), hooking two fingers under where the hood of the jacket began, tugging Wooyoung onto him, “Like this,” he said. San tilted his head, pressed his lips to the corner of Wooyoung’s mouth. 

His brain sorts through those few motions as fast it could- just not soon enough to realize how quickly he had leaned into San, and not fast enough to know he was kissing him now. 

Wooyoung’s first genius observation, once his brain caught up with his body, was that San was unfairly good at kissing. Which didn’t help the fact that he also met all the stupidly high ( and maybe unattainable/unreasonable) expectations that his female friends’ constant chatter of fictional men, along with his habitual anime binge watching sprees gave him. Hey, at least his mother had once told him that high expectations were reasonable. Hopefully, she never meant to tell him to elope with a faerie. 

_Could this even be considered eloping?_ The question floated in the back of his mind, but he left it alone in exchange for San’s kisses, somehow rough but sweet enough. 

  
  


San was… gentle, to Wooyoung’s surprise. He often smiled- affectionate, which blended well with Woyoung’s loud, outgoing personality. It wasn’t what he was expecting. By the book, he would’ve found a kidnapper to be harsh- cold and unforgiving, but San wasn’t, not really. He just seemed odd, which, fair enough- Wooyoung was not of the fae, and San was not human. Cultural differences existed in any relationship. 

The first time he woke up, in the single in the entire building, he found himself being watched by the other, who sat by the edge of the bed, waiting for him to stir. He remembered, just like a dazed memory of last night- San’s kiss, the feeling of his weight on him, the sweet hum and gentle _sleep well_ that Wooyung had heard before he drifted off into a likely semi shock-induced sleep. 

Needless to say, Wooyoung froze, too surprised and confused to open his mouth to say anything.

“Good morning,” San greeted, setting down the book in his lap. “How do you feel?” he looked normal, relatively normal in human form, though his golden eyes gave away the otherworldliness of his identity.

Wooyoung felt like nearly flinching wasn’t quite the right answer, but San showed no negative reaction to his newfound timidness. Everything was settling in- this was not home, it wasn’t Seoul, Korea. It was an entirely different world and he had no idea where this place was, let alone how to get out. 

“Fine?” it came out more as a question, but just as well, Wooyoung wasn’t sure this was the right answer to San’s question. He followed it up, more honestly with, “I don’t know.” it was a quiet add on, accompanied with Wooyoung shrinking into himself, putting on his puppy eyes without realizing it. 

He sat still at least, as San reached over to run his hand through his hair. Wooyoung figured his hair must be tangled from sleep, but San seemed to be doing fine. 

That same hand came curving down to tilt Wooyung’s chin upwards. San leaned forward, putting only a few inches of space between them- he paused as if waiting for Wooyoung to reject his advances. He didn’t, either because his brain was working too slow in the morning to realize the implications or he was just frozen by his discomfort to do more than stare, so San pressed a gentle, light kiss on his lips. 

Admittedly, Wooyung didn’t hate it.

“Well, adjust at your own pace, little one,” San said lightly, letting the space between them widen. “If you need anything, let me know.”

Wooyoung nodded dumbly, sliding out of the bed only after San left the room. There was a short pile of folded clothes by the foot of the bed for him- they were San’s- they smelled faintly like him, a scent of the forest and hard liquor, mixed together in the best way possible. 

It probably wasn’t any human cloth that Wooyoung could figure out- it wasn’t cotton or silk, something in between, with the coolness of silk and soft and steadiness of cotton. 

He changed in a daze- he hadn’t been expecting this San. he hadn’t guessed he would be gentle or mellow, for that fact. He’d assume that San would be more aggressive- rude and rough to no end. The difference from his expectation gave him dizzying whiplash, but Wooyoung made it downstairs without tripping over the flight of stairs.

San didn’t eat breakfast. As he explained, the fae was… different, in their diet, but that was to be expected. Their meals were not designated by nutrition or what they could afford to buy. Many faeries feed on energy instead of vegetation or flesh. San himself mainly fed on energy- long accustomed to killing another fae for it. He left that small detail out of his quick rundown on the faerie diet.

What Wooyoung also discovered was that San despised vegetables. Wooyoung had virtually no other options, for he refused San’s offer of bringing home the carcass of another faerie vehemently. He was not a butcher and he wasn’t sure he could stomach that.

Since then, Wooyoung figured out, somehow, what fae vegetation was edible and which was not. He borrowed one of San’s books, written in a language he didn’t recognize, but the symbols that went along with each illustration were clear enough. He had a stomach a couple of times the first week, but he was a near expert by what he assumed to be week three. 

  
  


Wooyoung avoided interaction with San for most of the day, mostly hiding himself up wherever he could curl up smaller. Fear and confusion were a constant companion as he slowly processed his surroundings. 

In his adventures in the third story, which seemed to serve as a library, judging by the immense collection of books and exciting trinkets lying around- none of which Wooyoung was in a hurry to touch, he found a cat-like little animal ( which he later found out was also a different type of faerie ), which seemed friendly enough. They curled up on Wooyoung’s lap, humming something like a purr, just aggressively enough for them to feel like a massage machine. Even then, Wooyoung fondly petted them as they closed their eyes, licking Wooyoung’s wrist before they fell asleep on his lap. 

Wooyoung too, lulled by the steadiness of their breath and the vibrations, fell asleep with them cuddling on his lap, his head resting on the cold stone of the library shelves. He felt warm eleven with the occasional chilly draft from a gap in the windows. Warm and safe, secure enough to stay with the cat-like faerie snuggling on his lap.

By the time San found them, a few hours had passed. He found them knocked out in the corner of the library, right where most of the books taken from the human world were stored. He smiled to himself, but it was hardly gentle- it looked something like amusement and curiosity. The cat-like faerie woke to his footsteps, the aggressive purring stopping they awoke from their nap. 

“Luu,” San scolded lightly, “You know you shouldn’t be lulling my human to sleep with you like that.” the cat-like faerie- Luu, gave him a slightly aggrieved look, which quickly dissipated as San took to petting them with a practiced hand. 

Wooyung, on the other hand, slowly began to stir, mildly confused, like he had his blankets ripped from in the cold dead of night. Actually, upon further thought, the effect of the stolen sheets and Luu being taken away was quite similar. 

“Huh?” was the first sound out of his mouth, staring blankly at San and Luu. 

“Oh, I woke you,” San stated, slightly apologetic. He held up the cat-like faerie, which made a greeting sound, somewhere between a meow and growl. “This is Luu. They’re my pet- to be specific, they’re a Shroomkit, they lure fae and humans alike to sleep.” San set Luu back into Wooyoung’s lap. “They’re domesticated- you won’t die in your sleep. Just… be careful for a few days, they need to get used to strangers before they don’t attempt to kill you.”

Wooyoung had started mimicking San’s petting motions before he mentioned the dying part. Wooyoung paused, “They kill?” he squeaked. 

“Luu’s a domestic Shroomkit, so no,” San clarified quickly. “They can’t, but they’ll try it on strangers. Luu will get used to you in a few days. That's when they’ll stop attempting… murder.” 

Wooyoung slowly resumed his petting, now with more caution and concern.

  
  


At first, it felt fake, as if Wooyoung was the boyfriend who’d just moved in. It was as if San was gently reeling him into the _real_ horrors, but as several days went by and he showed no signs of changing, Wooyoung gradually relaxed. There was still a touch of denial in his schedule, a stubborn block that made him refuse to fully process that he had essentially been kidnapped and no one tried to help him. He ignored the uncomfortable truth with blocks of text from books that San probably hadn’t touched in a decade.

For the next few weeks or so, Wooyoung accustomed himself to this new world, limited by the cavern and the few trips that he accompanied San out. San wasn’t- the most organized, which gave Wooyoung a reason to explore, not that he needed one, according to San’s rules. He pretended not to notice that San carefully tracked for the first few days, gently pointing out objects, belongings that were dangerous to touch. The faerie even manifested a ladder for him, to Wooyoung’s delight.

San’s walls were just shelving space. There was so _much_. Books, pottery- human things, and fae things. His curiosity would win him over at times, and he’d spend too much time sitting by one of the shelves carved into stone and too slowly, realized that he’d skipped lunch and dinner.

But despite the constant odd places he’d find himself camping out in, often with Luu by his side, Wooyoung gradually came around- or simply accepted his situation with a rather nihilistic way of looking at it. He was going to die, sooner or later. He would instead not go out by agitating a powerful faerie who could easily do some unspeakable things.

  
  


Wooyung’s still fading skittishness wasn't going unnoticed- how could it? It bared its head whenever San so much as _breathed_ in his direction, but in Wooyoung’s poor defense, anyone would with those eyes on them. 

Despite the honestly miserable tedious cycle, he missed his world- homesickness was a parasite, sucking out his soul bit by bit, the sparkle in his emptying hour by hour, day by day. 

He found himself thinking of the little, monotonous parts of his old life, the subway rides, and coffee breaks, the rhythm of rain that threatened to soak and drown him, the brush of a stranger’s shoulder- the monotonous safety, security that should've been taken cautiously but mostly for granted. The greasy, overly-packed sodium takeout meals, often eaten on the couch with his Netflix on, passing his hours by until the next twenty-four hours just to do everything all over again.

Wooyoung would’ve never chosen the normalcy of his old day to day, but the homesickness was an illness, as the name suggested and it ate away at his breath, even as he laid still on the cold floor of the library, staring that the fragile spine of ancient books, each of them with texts he would never finishing reading. 

In hindsight, he realized that this homesickness was slowly chipped away by San, who filled up space beside in a fashion so close to a lover’s, but the latter wasn’t one- not really, it was… _complicated_. San was made of dappled like and black matter, too many contrasting concepts, abstract but still tangible. He was oddly human, in some odd sense of the word in his monstrosity.

  
  


To Woyoung’s constant surprise, San was gentle. That is to say, all of the San that Wooyoung knew was not what he had been reading in the extensive collection of books that San just had lying around. Wooyung had recorded and shelved all the books in order, save for the books in languages he didn’t know. For those, he forced San to translate.

In the books, The Unbeings were described to be “insensitive, cruel beings who had no interest in superficial things, such as gold or other treasures. They lived to serve The Torn Ones. Amusement was a rare necessity.” There was an illustration of their two forms: the writhing mass of darkness Wooyoung had seen first hand that day and a human form, labeled about average height- and beautiful. 

Wooyoung found it strange that San could be so different, so contrasting to the description, the mention of amusement notwithstanding, he was pretty sure he was here to fulfill that part of the script. He didn’t bring the topic up to him, though, keeping silent. In a few days, he had shoved the information in the back of his mind.

The San that he understood entertained his stupidity with some of his own odd thoughts- for someone so old. More often than not, there would be times where he’s sneak in kisses in between conversations- Wooyoung would often end up on his lap, waving his hands and talking in that animated way that had him so _liked_ at home, and San would just stare. He was pretty sure his The Unbeing was not at all listening to most of what he was saying, but Wooyoung felt comfortable, safe in his arms.

“Tomatoes are fruits, but ketchup isn’t a smoothie, it’s like puree guacamole but make it with tomatoes,” Wooyoung argued on one particular day, sitting by the heater with Luu attempting to sleep on his shoulders. He was leaning up against the warm stone wall, facing a standing San, who was rummaging through the shelves. 

“That’s…” San paused. “Where do you get your logic for that?”Wooyoung smiled ever so softly, pointing at his temple. “That’s not a viable source.”

“I’m right,” Wooyoung retorted eloquently. 

“It doesn’t work like that,” San replied, unfazed.

Wooyoung stuck the tip of his tongue out, “It does now.”

  
  


More often then not, he’d let Wooyoung curl up in his arm on the singular bed in the entire three-story home, hugging him to sleep as if the faerie was a teddy bear, not a different being with different physiological makeup and the ability to wipe him off the face of the earth without breaking a sweat. 

Wooyoung appreciated it, even though San had made space in his library- sorry, _home_ , for him, he had yet to figure a place to sleep. As it turned out, San didn’t really sleep all that much for someone with a bed. It was mostly Wooyoung sleeping on the bed, but there were certain occasions later at night where San was too exhausted from whatever he did ( Wooyoung chose not to ask what ) where there were two on the bed.

Wooyoung could faintly feel the mattress dip on his left with the weight of San entering the bed. He knew it was San because Luu had already curled themselves into the end of the bed, dozing away under blankets by Wooyoung’s calves. A rush of chilliness from the slight lifting of the quilts made Wooyoung grumble in his half-sleep, which in turn had San freeze for a moment.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you up, little one?” San tucked the blankets back up, immediately engulfing Wooyoung in its warmth. He wrapped his arms around Wooyoung’s torso, pulling him closer to his body.

“Mm,” Wooyoung mumbled. He snuggled his head towards the crook of San's neck. Wooyoung could feel the slightly coarse fabric of his sweater on his nose. The elder’s scent enveloped him, making his eyelids feel heavier than before. San might’ve said something, perhaps along the lines of “Goodnight,” but Wooyoung wasn’t awake enough to hear it.

  
  


“San!” Wooyoung raced his way down the flight of stairs with the grind of the stone door opening. San stepped inside, with barely a few seconds to steady himself before Wooyoung flung himself into his arm, San catching them both with a rock-solid stance. 

The Unbeing laughs into the side of Wooyoung’s temple, the vibration rumbled gently, crashing of waves at the beachside, perhaps. Wooyung hangs a bit tighter. The safety rating he gave San’s embrace in his head was maybe too high for the other being an Unbeing, but Wooyoung was- sweet on him, glancing at him as if he held all the stars.

“Did you eat yet? You’re up later than usual,” San commented, pressing a quick kiss on Wooyoung’s lips. 

“Yeah,” Wooyoung nodded. “I missed you, you haven’t been here for two days, so I…” he trailed off, flushed red as a mischievous, wicked smile bloomed on his lips like the flowers Wooyoung had been nursing since day five. Whereas they gently bobbed to an invisible wind, acting a little more _aware_ of Wooyoung with gentle nuzzle when he looked after them, San’s blossoming smile spoke of nothing of gentleness.

“Flattered, my sweet,” San teased. He took to kissing Wooyoung again, pressed his lips against his mouth slowly and tantalizingly, pulling Wooyoung close to him. Wooyoung gladly obeyed him, drunk and dizzy on the scent of him- it was something like liquor, whiskey, or perhaps scotch, mixed with the smell of deep earth and woodiness. The perfume should be sharp and distinct, by all accounts- and it was, in the way Wooyoung just _knew_ it, how he’d memorized it in a short few weeks. But it wasn’t- it didn’t invade every step that he took- San’s scent was a drizzle of caramel on top of a freshly-baked pastry, not too much, but just enough to be alluring.

And oh, he was alluring- Wooyoung leaned into him, chasing after the giddiness he provided him, an addict looking for the next hit, the next chance to _sin_. So sin he did, and it wasn’t even like San would deny him. He enjoyed spoiling him silly, watching the joy sparkle in his eyes, and the high clouding his eyes. By all accounts, San should know what he was doing to Wooyoung- and there was no doubt he did. 

The elder of the two guided them up the flight of stairs that Wooyoung had so vehemently raced down to greet him, to be peppered with San’s gentle spoiling and sweet nothings. Even as San guided them both into the only bedroom and onto the bed, Wooyung filled him in on his boring day to day events, recounting whatever he had read to fill the time, the unique items he’d found, some magical and some not.

“I told you not to touch unfamiliar items if you didn’t know the magical components,” San scolded lightly in relevance to the light burn on Wooyoung’s hand. “You’re lucky your hand wasn’t blown off, Wooyoung.”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” Wooyoung hurried to apologize, pouting faintly just for effect. He had quickly learned a few of San’s alleged weaknesses over his time here- and it worked. San dropped the subject with another reminder to be careful and kissed him again to coerce him to go to sleep. For a spirit that was out often, San knew Wooyoung’s internal clock better than he did.

Wooyoung fell asleep easier with the elder in the same bed, snuggled deeply in San’s embrace. He dreamt of nothing, safe and secure in an evil spirit’s arms.

Wooyoung noticed the odd things, of course- how could he not? San could be as discrete and closed-lipped about his activities as he liked, but it wasn’t like he was perfect at it. There were bound to be slip-ups.

The elder faerie came back late often. There were times when San left pieces of his… _work_ around. Cyphers, articles of clothing with signs of violence on them- ripped pieces or blood ( Wooyoung noted once, that despite the very obvious knife cut on his shirt, San sported no wounds or scars. He later figured out that The Unbeings had _insane_ healing abilities, which explained the scar-free skin ), a pressing sense of displeasure, sometimes cruelty. They were all faint warnings that Wooyoung should’ve kept in mind that San was not the gentle one that he displayed in front of him.

One particular ingrained itself in his mind for a while.

Wooyoung had been combing the shelves of the first floor, looking for a book he had bookmarked a few days ago, resolving to go back it once the emotional trauma of it had settled into the depths of all the other trauma he had ever experienced in his life.

He had assumed it was the book he was looking for- there was a piece of parchment tucked into the pages, just as Wooyoung had done. He gently pulled the book out of the spot it was nestled in, flipping his way to the page where the parchment laid.

The first thing he noticed was the red ink on the parchment that substituted for a bookmark. The second thing was that this wasn’t the book that he had been searching for. It was a book on Spriggans and their treasure, not the emotionally traumatizing work of fiction that he had indulged in.

The piece of parchment was covered in red ink, scribbled handwriting and ciphers substantial, or some oddly satanic summoning circle. He’d learned enough that they were probably not aiming to summon satan, just the fabric that separated the human world with the faerie world, to cross over to one or the other. 

“San?” Wooyoung held the piece of paper up. The faerie had been minding his business, hanging out on the ledge of the window, writing notes to a textbook that looked too thick for light reading. “Is this yours?” stupid question- it didn’t belong to Wooyung, who couldn’t summon a drop of power needed to work the spells even if saved his life. Human physiology was an obstacle, you see. 

Upon seeing the parchment in his hands, San paused, then narrowed his eyes, as if his mind and body hadn’t lined up properly, and his movements had come to lag behind his brain’s wishes. Which was strange, uncomfortably so, because Wooyoung had a picture of San in his mind, and he never was surprised, or off guard. He reacted calmly to anything and everything as if he knew it would happen before it did. 

“It is,” San moved off the ledge of the window, making his way over to Wooyoung. He gently takes the paper out from in between Wooyoung’s loose hold, dropping a kiss on his forehead like he wasn’t only a mere _inch_ taller. “Thank you, little one.” 

Wooyoung smiled back at him, brushing off the red flag, “Sure.”

It was just too bad he chose to discard these hints in the back of his mind, like trash in a computer’s storage. 

  
  


The first time something went wrong, Wooyoung had been on the third floor, which served as the central library of sorts. 

Which was to say, he missed most of it, too absorbed with playing with Luu. They liked to sleep, to break objects whenever possible, and cuddling, with Wooyoung especially. It was probably the body heat seeing as San didn’t technically have any- he wasn’t cold, like the stories of the vampires, but he didn’t radiate any heat either. Somehow, he walked a careful line between cold and warm, and he did it well. Faerie’s physiology was strange. 

By the time Wooyoung had decided he was craving lunch, most of the evidence had been cleared from the first floor- San himself was still in his bloodied clothes. 

“San!” he flew down the stairs at first sight of him- he wouldn’t _hug_ him, he had his hygienic ideals, after all, but the blood in _his_ body froze into ice after he fully processed the landscape in front of him.

Wooyoung was used to the sight of San covered in some sort of evidence of violence. He mostly chose to ignore it- as the scientists back in the human world had explained it, generational trauma and desensitization or something. It didn’t faze him.

It still wouldn’t have, but it was red, drying to a dull, dark brownish-red. It wasn’t faerie blood, but human blood. He couldn’t be _wrong_ ; there was no way- the strong stench of iron, metallic, and distinctive. Plus, faerie blood was different. It was a purple, tinted with blue, drying a color something a couple of shades lighter than a navy. Wooyoung knew the difference.

He didn’t mean to stumble backward, his lower back bumping into the railings of the stairs, but he did. The brutal, cold way San turned to him was just enough for Wooyoung to think of the feeling from the first time he’d ever laid eyes on him, the sinking, unquestioned feeling that he was dangerous, a killer. 

Just that, just _that_ , Wooyoung didn’t have the words for it, could make him shrink back, make the comfort and acceptance dissipate faster than one could blink. One could compare it to the way one could make a blooming flower wither in a few seconds in a time-lapse. It certainly felt like one, like this should’ve taken years, maybe days, not a few seconds. Wooyoung was well aware San was different, that he shouldn’t hold him up to human standards. Faerie dynamics were different from human ones, surviving each other to faeries was different from human survival; the latter was more psychological than physical. For fae, it was _both_.

The piercing, unforgiving ice in San’s melted just at the sight of him, but Wooyoung stilled trembled anyway, sure that fear was radiating from him as if it was body odor. His hands shook, but Wooyung pressed them into fists, hoping that the other didn’t notice it. 

“Go upstairs, darling,” San said gently. “I’ll you later, okay? You can’t be down right now.” there was no one else downstairs, but Wooyoung felt more than one presence. Like other spirits pressing to enter, or to be seen.

“O-okay,” Wooyoung squeaked, practically tripping over himself in an attempt to race up the stairs, away from the oppressive memory of the first feelings and San. Luu swished their tail as they settled at the bottom of the stairs for a half-second, pressing an arching, disapproving stare into San. As both the other faerie and the human living in the house had noticed, Luu tended to act more intelligent than the pet that they’re technically _supposed_ to be. 

San didn’t reply in kind, only turned away from Luu in some silent sign that he didn’t appreciate the criticism. The cat-like faerie turned up the stairs to follow Wooyoung, probably to settle in his lap in some sort of comfort while San figured out the secrets he didn’t care to discuss with his human. 

  
  


There wasn’t much in the house to distract Wooyoung from his shaking hands. His heart raced, beating against the hard lines of his rib cage, a prisoner trying desperately to escape the stubborn wards of solitary confinement. The shock factor was a part of the equation that curled into his very soul, numbing his senses. It was a _surreal_ experience, Wooyoung had run from San for the first time in weeks. That wasn’t the development neither had hoped for. 

He had a book open, something on the estimated origins of The Torn Ones ( the old gods that San supposedly worked for, Wooyoung remembered dimly ). It was long and detailed; each word contemplated and thought over. Indeed, there wasn’t always a _correct_ way of describing faerie activities or events, but some descriptions came close. 

Luu eyed the book with concern and distaste, sounding a disapproving sound to make their opinion of Wooyoung’s reading of choice heard. They disapproved of the odd and apparent failure of an attempt to calm down.

Neither did San.

“I don’t think that’s a particularly good read,” his voice registered before Wooyoung realized he completely missed the sound of his footsteps coming closer. San squatted before Wooyoung, a monster surrendering his horns- or perhaps a god kneeling, for Wooyung saw the celestial glow in his liquid gold eyes. The book dropped from his hands to the stone floor with a flat, sharp _thump_ , and Woyoung just stared back at San, lost in his shock and confusion, a stubborn horror decorating his emotions. 

He had changed out of his bloodied shirt, into another shirt, this time white instead of beige. It looked- and smelled- like he’d cleaned up in the shower. The ends of his locks were slightly damp, not a speck of dirt on him. San still wore his clothes like he was in the middle of a daily business meeting, not quite uptight but not casual either. Just a perfect blend of both. Wooyoung noted, through his shaken fog, that he still looked unfairly good. 

“Sorry,” was all he managed to squeak out, unsure of whatever else to say. Nothing felt right, nothing felt like the correct combinations of words, but they were all laid out in front of him, Wooyoung just had no idea what else to add other than, “what were you doing in the human world?” 

It had been weeks since the first day. The two, for the relatively stable peace they’d made, hidden in the shelves of San’s homes and heated kisses- San never did anything further than that, something that Wooyoung considered begging him to do, go further than the kisses stolen here and there. 

San doesn’t answer the question, “I shouldn’t talk about it.” he said quietly. Wooyoung, though a bit dense at times, got the hint.

He nodded silently, dropped the subject even though his curiosity had grown. 

The elder reached out toward him carefully, fitting the palm of his hand to the curve of Wooyoung’s cheek, the slight pressure from his fingertips silently hinting for Wooyoung to meet his gaze. He did, barely reaching his intense golden eyes before Wooyung wished he could drop them, but he didn’t want to push any buttons. 

“I’m sorry,” San said gently. “There are just some questions I can’t answer; it’s a matter of surveillance and... feuds.”

Wooyoung shifted in his spot, “I get it- I just- I’m-” he stumbled, tripped over his jumbled thoughts as though they were the bodies of the people whose blood stained San’s clothes. His voice dropped to a despaired whisper. “I don’t want to remember… _that_.”

“... Do you want me to help you forget?” San asked.

Wooyoung stared at him. A long moment passed.

“ _Please_ ,” the way it climbed out of his mouth was pitifully desperate, a call, a prayer to relieve him of the terror of the past hour that no desensitization could erase. It’s a last, flickering hope to just numb his senses for longer. The worst part was that he knew San didn’t have the power to erase the image in his head, but he leaned into his offer anyway.

San pulled him in closer, his fingers closing around Wooyoung’s wrists like chains, and pulled him closer, and Wooyoung gladly drowned. 

It’s not the sort of drowning that would be painful, not at all. San was, for all accounts, controlled and calm, pushing and pulling at all of Wooyoung’s limits as their lips met and again and again until all Wooyoung could think of was not guilt, or fear, or confusion- just San, and only San. 

It’s… certainly a broadway musical on irony, the way Wooyoung sank into San’s arms, the very same ones that were so very blood stained a couple of hours ago. Heat danced through Wooyoung’s body, a choir of vocalists singing a series of mind-numbing numbers in his head. San’s exploring hands were the perfect accompaniment to it, harmonizing with the choir. There was a strange sense of understanding that sort _clicked_ into place, that capture wasn’t just physical, but something very psychological. Wooyoung grasped onto his shoulders, a last attempt to not drown in him.

  
  


Wooyung got it, broke out of his San induced haze a week later, give or take a few days. 

He had heard the voices downstairs. Luu had been busy investigating the plants Wooyoung had revived from San’s weak gardening hand- and well, Wooyoung had sensed something was different, strange. The house felt filled, for some reason. He had gotten used to the feeling of emptiness since he arrived there since technically, the only breathing beings here were just him, San and Luu. 

As he learned from last time, Wooyoung did not rush downstairs at the mere hint that San was in the house. Instead, he carefully sat by the stairs, hidden behind the walls just a few feet away. 

“Hongjoong is displeased with the humans that have been taken in as of late, as you might’ve been able to tell, therefore-” the voice, gravelly but loud, was cut off.

San’s voice cut in, “Hongjoong is usually displeased with the humans. He’s forgotten it doesn’t matter what sort we take, so as long they’re… a match. Humans are replaceable.” 

A low, amused chuckle- it was different from the first, gentler in texture but still carried that tone of cruelty- a tint that Wooyoung had first associated with San, “Does that apply to your human? I’m surprised you haven’t taken him yet; he’s gorgeous.” he paused. “You were always the best at picking up humans with such a high match rate to you. I’m envious.”

“It's because he’s a near-perfect match,” San explained. His voice was calm, bored, almost, as if he was explaining some mundane concept to a child who didn’t understand. “Unlike you, Mingi, I’m hardly impatient. If I use up the human beforehand, then where would we be?” 

Confused was a pretty accurate descriptor for all of Wooyoung’s befuddled feelings at that moment. The words were not foreign to him, but none it made sense to him. He couldn’t remember anything related to humans and energy when he had casually read up on San’s kind- The Unbeings- as he had explained. 

Mingi- the other unfamiliar name, laughed, “Don’t blame me, Hwangwoong was quite pretty.” 

“That’s because you only take the pretty ones, even if they’re a lower match to you,” the first voice drawled, tainted honey dripping from their voice. “Your pickiness will ruin us one day.”

Wooyoung wasn’t watching the entire scene, but even he could feel Mingi shrug as he spoke, “You have San.”

San; calm, undaunted, and level-headed San. San, who was quick-witted and carefully reserved in the details of himself. There was always a limit to his answers, a boundary between him and the human’s growing curiosity; Wooyoung would never learn anything about San under the personality he crafted to show Wooyoung. 

As Wooyoung scrambled away front the stairs and back to the library, the conversation he heard rang through his ears. He should’ve stayed. But he knew, like the way he knew the back of his hand, that if he remained there longer, he would be caught. It was better to back away and take some time to find any relevant information to what he had heard, then to stick around.

Luu accompanied Wooyoung to the third floor, seemingly unaffected by the scenario taking place downstairs. The cat-like faerie had immediately become a point of comfort for him, the long, downy fur brushing up against his calves as they kept pace with Wooyoung. 

He checked the catalog stuck to the wall first. It covered all the books on the floor. Wooyoung looked for “The Unbeing”, before landing on a list of books that seemed promising. 

Heart thumping, he nearly crushed a scrap of paper in his hand as he gathered the shortlist of texts, the stack of bound pages creating a solid _thump_ on the stone floor. Wooyoung flipped through the table of context, then the index before slowly accumulating a series of recurring facts:

One, like many of the fae, The Unbeings consumed energy, not nutrition. This meant killing other beings, whether it be other fae or humans.

Two, The Unbeings’ physiology had an obvious favorability towards the energy taken from consuming humans. While Wooyoung wasn’t sure how the author had gotten any of the statistics, the power, so to speak, granted to them was five times higher when an Unbeing consumed humans compared to another powerful faerie.

Three, the word _consume_ was misleading. For one, most fae didn’t eat any flesh, they took the energy- Wooyoung figured it was sort of like the soul of the being. The Unbeings had several ways to take that energy: death or physical interaction. It meant they _could_ kill. Nevermind that it would be an easy affair for them, it was also an easy way to end any struggle, but there was a time limit to the energy stored in the being; whereas, through physical interaction, The Unbeing could prolong the life of their prey while also reaping more energy just from them. 

Of course, they could also take all of the being’s soul with one take if they ever wished. It would leave the being dead for all accounts and a sudden surge of energy. This method was left for the end when The Unbeing had grown tired of the… _ahem_ , “energy source” they had. 

Curiously enough, the shells of these once-living beings could then be molded into mindless puppets. Puppets, often used for destruction or general chaos, for their terrorizing bidding. It wasn’t uncommon, one could have several puppets, as to their liking. These puppets were chillingly lifeless, as puppets made of real humans tended to be- their eyes were glassy, dead. On their nape, the insignia of their owner was burned into the carefully preserved, marking them more an object than a living person of their own.

Frankly, Wooyoung decided he’s learned enough from these books. He closed the last book with shaky breaths and shaky hands, his death white knuckles visible as he clutched the sides of the book, his skin stretched taut over his bones. 

Luu headbutted him in the thigh, the Shroomkit’s half meow, half growl coarsely grounding him back to the world underneath. The presence seemed little less like his priority, but Wooyoung grasped at the faint strings that pushed him back to earth, his finger digging through the thick fur of Luu's back like it was a lifesaver.

  
  


Wooyoung was on his back on the floor of the library when he heard footsteps coming up the stairs. He’s heard San’s footsteps enough to know that it’s him. He felt too spent and _lazy_ as his parents would’ve said, to get up. Luu lounged leisurely across his abdomen, purring a comforting rumble then a lull to sleep after several weeks.

“Little one,” San’s voice was gentle, faintly amused. Wooyoung shifted his eye from the empty ceiling to him. San crouched down, reaching out a hand to move his fingers through Wooyoung’s hair. “Hey, baby.” Wooyoung’s traitorous heart performed a perfect leap across the floor- San didn’t know that, but it was evident by the flaming blush that spread quickly across his face as he sat up. 

Luu growled disgruntled as they were thrown from Wooyoung’s abdomen, but they settled down on his lap just a second later, lulled back to their battery charging sleep. Watching over Wooyoung in the turmoil of a nervous breakdown _was_ an exhausting job, after all.

“Hi,” he replied in kind, humming as San pulled him for a butterfly kiss to the corner of his lips. Wooyoung leaned into him, feeling the touch of San’s hands on his waist as the fae held him steady, pressing a harder kiss on his lips fully this time. 

When they break apart, San asked, with a touch of sweet concern, “Are you okay? You look worn out.” his right hand flitted to Wooyoung’s hair, his liquid golden eyes surveyed his features for hints.

There were many things he could’ve said, all of his findings were just sitting there, in the back of his throat, waiting for him to pour it all out, even though he'd barely made sense of in the context of the conversation he’d eavesdropped on. Half of the implications were still floating out of his grasp, teasing him as they danced out of his reach. Wooyoung blamed it on denial.

Instead of outing himself, he settled on pulling on his several years of faking emotions- although, this didn’t count, he _did_ feel drained, just not for the reasons he was going to be feeding San- in grueling customer service. It wasn’t hard to lay his head on San’s shoulder- he’d learned by now that San didn’t mind- or pretended to not mind- touch.

“I- I dunno, I guess I’m just feeling homesick,” Wooyoung mumbled, balling his hands into fists on his lap. The uncertain waver in his tone wasn’t fake, so if San had any lie detector-esque abilities he missed while skimming through the “Unbeing” actions in fae encyclopedias, at least he couldn’t say his emotions were untrue. And it wasn’t technically lying, he did miss home. It just wasn’t his priority at the moment. 

He pressed on, “It’s stupid because I like being around you. But part of me is always doubting things, you know? Like maybe this is just Stockholm Syndrome and I’ve just tricked myself into thinking that I- I like _you_ ,” again, not a lie, he didn’t specify in what timeframe. It was an odd time to be semi-confessing the weird tidbits of his perspective on San, pre-eavesdropped conversation. “I… I don’t know. Maybe I’m going through a crisis? Who wouldn't? Sometimes I think about how this and my old life is so different and how I’ve gotten rid of the most frustrating parts but I just. I’m confused, San.”

“Oh, little one,” San murmured. He gathered Wooyoung carefully up in his arms, the human a porcelain vase worth thousands of dollars, cradled in his strength. Wooyoung decided that _whiplash_ was strong enough of a word for the contradicting feelings he was experiencing- San felt safe, a safe place to put his exhausted body in and know that he’d be alright, but at the same time, with all the information connecting dots in his head as San held him, it wasn’t helping that Wooyoung had roughly figured that San saw him more like a source of energy, _food_ , than someone he was fond of enough to care for him. 

Admittedly, Wooyoung’s heart broke a little. 

What could he do? He was just a fragile human trapped in a foreign, yet interwoven world.

  
  


He didn’t wonder if San noticed the subtle differences in his behavior- of course, he did, nothing escaped his sharp eyes. Wooyoung's smile had become something _less_ , maintained better than most just because of long years of practice. He didn’t reject San’s affection, but it wasn’t like he actively sought it either. San was coming to him more and more, gathering him up in his embrace, humming tunes to the songs he knew but couldn’t place the names of. 

It felt like some odd replacement of home, that was to say, the human world, if he had a partner who filled him up with affection and hummed old songs he couldn’t lookup. Wooyoung would fall into San’s every move and then snap back again a few hours later, in a frustrating cycle.

He should just be grateful San wasn’t- at least didn’t seem to be tracking the books that he was looking through. Wooyoung was halfway through finding a way back- away from San and his plans to one day kill him- that wouldn’t kill _him_ in the process. He could’ve ripped open an opening in the Divide- otherwise as known as the usually invisible blanket that separated the faerie world from the human world, although technically both worlds were interlinked and interwoven, inseparable. Kind of like conjoined twins, but harder to wrap his head around. The problem with that plan was that he didn’t have the freakish strength to do anything but sense it if he concentrated hard enough or had the right experience. 

However, it was nearing midsummer; which meant Wooyoung did not need to use his meager human strength to tear a hole in the Divide. All he’d have to do was to find a map of the place and somehow slip away to a less used point of exit in the Divide. That could only happen when San was away, and well, there would be many openings for him.

It occurred to him, as he drew mindless circles through pieces of parchment, that there was a chance- _a big chance_ , that he could easily be killed, or worse, San would figure out his plans and catch him. If he wasn’t killed on the spot, Wooyoung figured San could do a lot worse then just ending his life. It was not a savory thought, to say the least. 

San didn’t seem like the vindictive type, but there wasn’t a reason to be after Wooyoung gave it some thought. He had power, _immense_ power- not as strong as the Torn Ones, but that wasn’t the fairest comparison. Gods were above faeries, and subsequently, humans, in the hierarchy of power. San, being an Unbeing, laid just below them. That meant he didn’t need revenge, he could do as he pleased. If someone, _something_ , got in his way, he needed no awful rage or concentration to destroy them. Wooyoung had concluded, after too many blocks of text and a stronger craving for caffeine than ever, that San could probably kill him with a flick of his wrist. Again, he didn’t like that thought.

  
  


It happened about a week later- Wooyoung had stayed in the fae version of the earth for maybe a month and a half now, the equivalent of ten human days. He had been right; time was different in the fae world. 

San was gone, disappearing out of the door after sharing an affection kiss.

“See you soon,” he had mumbled into the jut of Wooyoung’s lower lip, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he surveyed the slightly dazed expression on Wooyoung’s face. The younger nodded, pressed a small, barely noticeable kiss back into San’s mouth. Then, San was out the door, headed for places Wooyoung would never know.

Wooyoung gave it some time after he left, several hours to ensure that he wasn’t coming back. His heart pounded in his ears the entire time.

Luu seemed to understand his plans, settling themselves into Wooyoung’s chest as he laid on the floor, hoping that the coolness of the stones would steal away the building heat in his body. It only worked somewhat, but Wooyung’s expectations weren’t that high. He and the floor had become extremely acquainted with each other, he knew its limits to an extent.

He chose to move aside the windowpane of the house since he had no aptitude for moving the rocky door- and, it made him feel like he was in a movie the main character escaping a deadly situation. 

In his clothes, he had carefully indistinct pieces of paper that he taped back together and a knife, just in case- with San, who knew, right? Plus, spy movies, spy movies. They always did weird little stuff like this. Perhaps that was just a coping method for the predicament he was in, but it soothed him.

  
  


It was… easy.

Wooyung figured out the road maps easily, perhaps far too easily. There was a feeling that his movements were tracked with every passing second, but Woyoung pushed that unease away, more intent on getting away, to save his life than who was watching him. Hopefully, it was just an over-curious, but harmless fairie. With his luck though, it was probably more like a bloodthirsty boar demon.

It had been about two or three fairie hours, enough hiking around ( and getting lost, for the record ) for Wooyoung to feel sweat dripping down his hairline. The trails he had taken ( all of them were just theoretical, coming from the extensive collection of maps in San’s library ) took him to the backroads of the world if they could be counted as backroads. He wasn’t sure what designated a trail as a backroad. 

Wooyoung arrived at his supposed destination. He sure hoped it was the place he was looking for. He glanced at his notes, the second version that he had written- a habit that had yet to disappear from his college days, which had only been about six months since he graduated. It seemed like universes away. 

He crouched in the bushes as he attempted to survey the spots in front of him for the faint, faint shimmer of a rip in the Divide. It was a near hopeless strategy and endeavor because Wooyoung was not all that observant. Not necessarily observant, but he certainly didn’t possess the skills to be spotting almost invisible shimmers in the air. 

As such, it took him a good thirty minutes to spot it- the slight, unnatural ripple in his line of vision, just to his far left. Wooyoung swallowed his nerves and carefully stepped out to the opening, walking towards it in a cautiously spellbound manner. 

As they do in the movies, Wooyoung held up his hand to the spot in the air where the ripple first caught his attention, feeling foolish, pressed his palm forward by micrometers.

There was a cool sensation that rippled across the surface of his palm as his hand disappeared beyond the Divide. Wooyoung decided it would be strange ( and probably traumatic ) for any possible passersby to see a floating hand on the other side, so he quickly stepped through the rip in the Divide. It felt similar to sinking into a swimming pool on a simmering summer day, the chillness both a relief and a shock to his system. 

For Wooyoung’s benefit, the rip in the Divide was nowhere near the main city. Also thankfully, it was a place he recognized- as in the city park just a thirty-minute walk from his apartment, which he was probably thrown out of since he’d been gone for a month and more. 

The sudden change in scenery didn’t create as much of a whiplash effect as much as the atmospheric change. There was a distinct change of tension in the air, intangible but not out of reach, in a manner of speaking. Part of the reason could be the man sitting around as Wooyoung stepped out of Divide, sweaty, probably being stalked but otherwise physically whole and safe. 

“... Good afternoon?” Wooyoung squeaked out, unnerved by the gun on the man’s waist and the odd equipment on him. There were several pieces of equipment that didn’t look quite right for what he guessed to be law enforcement, but at the same time, the man looked vaguely familiar, despite the awkward fact that he was looking at Wooyoung like he’s seen a malicious ghost- or faerie. 

“You’re the one that got kidnapped by the Unbeing almost two months ago,” he gasped out. “How did you escape? You’re _alive_?” Wooyoung might have been reaching, but he assumed that the man meant San.

“Uh, yeah? I managed to escape,” Wooyoung replied uncertainly. “Sannie wasn’t home, so I just… kind of walked out, I guess.” by the bulge of the man’s eye and the unthinking reach for his communication device, this was not a common occurrence. Most victims weren’t also alive to refer to an ancient Unbeing as “Sannie” either. A bit of a rarity, it was.

The man mumbled several rushed orders into the walkie talkie before he made a few cautious steps towards Wooyoung, acting like he was a traumatized kidnappee “Okay, mister-”

“Wooyoung,” Wooyoung interrupted. “My name is Jung Wooyoung.”

“Wooyoung, right- since you escaped, Wooyoung, that means you’re in danger. We have to place you in our protection, okay? I’ll be in charge of making sure the Unbeing doesn’t find you. He’s dangerous.”

“I know,” Wooyoung shrugged. “I found out he was using me for food a week ago.” he could see the man's brain working time trying to find a proper response to that, but before he could falter, Wooyoung gave him a tight-lipped smile and waved it away. “It’s okay, it happens. Where are we going?”

“We’re going to the main headquarters,” the man said. “Also known as the US. My name’s Hongjoong, by the way.”

_Hongjoong_. 

The name clicked into his memory, and suddenly, Wooyoung knew everything was very, very wrong. He tried not to flinch as the blue-haired man simply stood there and looked at him, but it didn’t succeed. Apparently, the thought of people sharing the same names didn’t cross his mind. 

He thought he caught a glint of amusement in Hongjoong’s eyes, but he could just be paranoid now. He had no idea. 

Wooyoung forced a smile, “Nice to meet you, Hongjoong-ssi.” He tried to not reach for the knife in his pocket, just in case the name was just a coincidence. With his luck, it probably wasn’t, which was as depressing as it was annoying- with that in mind, Wooyoung uncomfortably glanced around for an escape route as Hongjoong took a few steps closer to him. 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Hongjoong soothed gently, reaching out a hand. “Can you come with me?”

He sounded genuine, sympathetic, and slightly concerned as anyone would be facing a kidnapee when they’d just escaped from what they had assumed to be a traumatizing experience. That was the problem- San had never been abusive or traumatizing, kidnapping aside. Sure, he had secrets, everyone did, and the whole food source business. If Wooyoung was asked about his experience with san and if anything _bad_ happened to him, the honest answer was no. 

Hongjoong _sounded_ genuine. San had helped him get his trust issues up to another level, so it was much harder to believe the gentle, placid tone of his voice. 

Frustration lighted up in Hongjoong’s eyes, for a brief second. Wooyoung’s hand went for the knife he had tucked into his waist, but he didn’t intend to get anywhere near touching it. He was hoping it was just paranoia.

“You can stop the act now, Hongjoong, thank you.”

San’s voice was the _real_ catalyst for Wooyoung to feel the grip of the knife as he turned something like 167 degrees, the familiar faerie approaching him without a single trance of emotion or gentleness.

_This_ was the San he had saw that first day, every inch the powerful, ancient Unbeing and none of the act. Wooyoung thought he saw a twitch of displeasure in the corner of his lip.

The knife slid free of its sheath, but Wooyoung knew it was useless. He held it to San’s chest when the elder came too close for any sense of comfort.

“I hate you,” Wooyoung uttered, staring into San’s golden eyes. His voice was unexpectedly calm despite his racing, adrenaline run heart. “Fucking hell, you could’ve been straight with me. Do you fool all your victims as you did me?” there was no point in pretending. Anyone as smart as San would’ve known why Wooyoung had disappeared, seemingly at random. 

San sighed, the bob of his chest unaffected by the point of Wooyoung’s flimsy-looking knife. He reached for his wrist, pressing down on the bunches of nerves a few finger widths under his wrists as he pulled Wooyoung off-balance towards him.

“Pretty boy,” San breathed. “Baby, you _don’t_ hate me. You could never hate me."

Well, as arrogant as it sounded, San was right. As Wooyoung flopped into San’s solid chest, his wrist throbbing with uncomfortable pain, he knew those words were not spoken out of an inflated sense of importance. He couldn't hate San, he was just-  _ afraid _ of him, of his abilities. But he didn’t hate him- which was both confusing as it was frustrating. Some part of him knew that he should, in fact, hate him, but there was no will to.

San tilted Wooyoung’s pained face up to meet his, placing a kiss- the last one- on his lips. He smiled, sardonic and cruel- and that hurt- much more than the pain that suddenly came at him.

It originated in his gut. 

There was a fire and a hurricane at the same time, steel claws ripping him apart. It traveled through his body, burning holes in the skeleton of his body and melting away the structure of his humanity. Wooyoung felt thousands of needles descend upon his sensitive skin driven deep into the rotten flesh that had first been burned and melted into a mess. From the inside out he was being torn apart, taking away his ability to reason until all of it consumed him.

San was saying something, watching a silent show through the wide, pain clouded irises of Wooyoung’s eyes. Wooyoung found that his mouth was sealed- he couldn’t scream. It made the pain more pronounced- both the alarm and fear. He wasn’t bleeding, ore melting, or being burned- he was whole, intact, alive- but it felt like he was all of those things. There was so much of it, the pain.

When the pain finally, finally, subsided, Wooyoung had long collapsed onto the grassy, coarse dirt-covered floor, sweat pasting his hair to his skin like another layer. He was too exhausted to pay attention to San, and how he crouched before him, 

“Well,” San mused. “You did serve your role as my plaything, little one.”

And with an Unbeing of San’s caliber, Wooyoung would just have to settle for a different form of escape.

**Author's Note:**

> lemme know what you thought of this! i'd appreciate some thoughts <3
> 
> [twt](https://twitter.com/nvmjoonies)  
> [cc](https://curiouscat.me/cartelshots)


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